


AM

by canonjohnlock



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Implied skinny dipping, Just Cutesy Stuff, Just me being trash, Just the boys being themselves, Sleepover conversations, Song fic, What the boys talk about, With Zayn!, made in the am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonjohnlock/pseuds/canonjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their bus breaks down and the boys spend the night in a motel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	AM

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the song AM by, you guessed it, One Direction. I included Zayn because I can. I wrote this to highlight the struggles the boys may have faced/still are facing. They're people, too, you know.

They were in some run-down town in the Midwest. They couldn’t remember the state they were but it didn’t really matter. They all tended to blend together after a while. Their bus had broken down a few hundred miles outside the city, leaving them stranded in a town hardly big enough to be put on a map. It was early in the morning, around two or three, when the taxi came for them and dropped them off a small, rusty motel. They blearily checked in for a night and stumbled up to the room. They shared a room that night with two king-sized beds. The sheets were stiff like cardboard and the shower made a groaning noise when they turned on the water. Once they had settled into the beds (Harry and Louis on one, Liam and Zayn on the next, and Niall on the couch), they all pretended to drift off to sleep.

About forty-five minutes after they had gotten into bed, Harry whispered, “Is anyone awake?” To his surprise, all four of the others mumbled in response. “I can’t sleep,” Harry said, turning over to lie on his back.

“Neither can I,” Zayn muttered. “I think it’s the weird smell coming from the pillows.”

“It’s like sleeping on concrete,” Niall complained, punching his pillow.

“The beds aren’t much better, mate,” Liam said.

“I’m exhausted,” Louis groaned, kicking his legs around.

“Go to sleep then,” Niall mumbled.

“I can’t. My mind won’t shut up.”

The boys laid in silence for a few moments.

“I miss home,” Harry said quietly. “I miss my mum and Gemma.”

“I’m just tired, you know?” Louis said, propping himself up on one elbow. “Like, I love what we’re doing, but I need a break. It’s too much sometimes, a show every other night, sometimes every night. I barely have time to think. It’s like as soon as we get to the next city and get some sleep, we’re waking up again to go rehearse and get ready for the show.”

“And there’s interviews, too,” Zayn added. “I get so tired of the same questions. ‘What’s it like touring the world? What do you miss most back home? How many tattoos do you have? Working on anything new?’ And we have to keep smiling and we have to be engaging or else everyone gets bored. I’m tired of it, tired of pleasing strangers.”

“I’m tired of the management. Always telling us what to do and say and wear. Always dictating what to do in certain situations, how to react to paps and fans, how to greet people, how to talk to others without giving anything away. Like, what’s there to give away?” Liam drabbled. “That we’re gonna tweet something or post to Instagram? Privacy went out the window ages ago.”

“That’s another thing,” Niall began. “We have no privacy. I swear the fucking media knows where we’re going before we do. People know song titles before we do. They know our fuckin’ blood types! I don’t even know my blood type.”

Louis tossed his arm over his face. “I can’t even go outside wearing a rainbow apple without people assuming I’m gay. Why’s it such a big deal if I am or if I’m not? Why does anyone care where my dick goes?”

“They knew when I lost my virginity,” Harry whispered. “That’s supposed to be private. And they- they knew. And they told the whole world. I was sixteen.” His voice wobbled. “I can’t even date anyone without- without- Well, you know.”

“We can’t even step outside without being bombarded,” Liam said, turning on his side to face the others. “I can’t take a piss without someone following me to the urinal.”

“We started so young,” Zayn whispered. “Sometimes I wish I had more time to enjoy being a kid, you know? It wasn’t always great, but at least I was just Zayn, not Zayn Malik.”

“I wish I got to finish school,” Niall declared. “Sometimes I feel like I should have gotten my diploma before starting my career. I was so scared when we first started. What if we had failed? I wouldn’t have a high school diploma. I’d have nothing to fall back on.”

“It revealed who my true friends were,” Harry mentioned. “Once I became, you know, ‘famous’, some of my so-called friends used our friendship to further their fame.”

“I had people I hadn’t spoken to in years call me up and ask to hang out,” Louis said.

“Scoot over,” Niall told Zayn and plopped himself between him and Liam. “This is loads more comfortable than the couch. You dick.”

Liam huffed, “Make yourself comfortable then. My bullies actually came to my house. To apologize. As if all the damage they caused could be undone with the words ‘I’m sorry’.” He shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. “I told them to unkindly fuck off.”

There was a thump and Niall said, “Good on ya, mate.”

“I love you guys, you know?” Harry announced, a small smile playing at his lips. “You’ve taught me a lot, like the fact that I never, ever want brothers.”

Louis threw a pillow at him. “Git,” he mumbled.

“And that the Irish will always out-drink me,” Zayn added. Niall whooped in triumph. Zayn shuddered at the memory.

“These are the best years of our life,” Liam began. “We get to see the world and meet so many different people. Who else can say they’ve been to as many countries as we have?”

“Probably Beyoncé,” Niall mumbled.

“I’m glad I get to spend these years with you,” he finished.

“Even if Niall’s farts are deadly enough to kill,” Louis giggled.

“Try having the bunk underneath him,” Zayn grumbled.

“Hot air rises,” Liam said. “Try having the one above him.”

“Those in favor of kicking Niall out, say ‘I’,” Louis said.

“I,” chanted the three others.

“Oi!”

“Anyone fancy a swim?” Zayn asked suddenly, sitting up fast enough to nearly fall off his overcrowded bed.

“Ah, yes. Let’s all gather in the bathtub,” Louis said and rolled his eyes.

“There’s a pool, you twat. Harry, hit him for me.”

There was a muted ‘thud’ and Louis mumbled a string of expletives.

“I haven’t got any swim shorts,” Liam said. “They’re on the bus.”

“Mate, it’s not like we haven’t seen your dick before,” Niall laughed, rolling off the bed to join Zayn.

“What if someone sees us? I don’t fancy my nudes being leaked,” Harry said nervously.

Louis got off the bed. “H, we’ve already let so many things be taken from us. Our privacy, our secrets. Don’t let them take the fun, too.”

Harry contemplated this for a minute and finally stood with the other three. “Okay. But if someone sees us, I’m gonna kill you.”

Zayn turned to Liam. “Well?”

“Oh, alright. Let’s be boys.”

And if someone happened across five British men splashing in a motel pool at five in the morning, well, no one had to know. After all, skinny dipping in a foreign land in the middle of a town too small to be placed on a map was only something you could do once. Unless you were One Direction. Then it became a tradition.


End file.
